


offering both throat and key

by scandalous



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [17]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Dom James Wilson (House M.D.), Handcuffs, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Tritter Arc, Rimming, Romance, Sub Greg House, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: House took one thing away from the Tritter debacle, and it involved handcuffs.





	offering both throat and key

**Author's Note:**

> for seasonofkink with the square "chains/locks".
> 
> enjoy!

“There really was only one good thing about what happened with Tritter,” House tells Wilson as he props his legs on the coffee table at his place. 

Wilson raises a brow. unable to not grimace as House’s shoes get on his perfectly clean coffee table. “What would that be?” 

House offers him a cocky smile, ice-blue eyes glinting in the dim light of his place as the sun sets. “Well, he handcuffed me after that body search.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “All you took away from that mess was that you have a thing for being handcuffed?” he asks, tilting his head. As much as he doesn’t like to admit it, he was quite mad when it all went down. Watching House go in a downward spiral as the law was on his tail was terrifying and he still deeply regrets ratting him out. But he had to— at least that’s what he likes to tell himself. That he had to.

"Yep," he says, popping the p, grinning. "We could try that out sometime."

Wilson sighs and leans in closer to him, putting a hand on his good leg, massaging a little. "We could." He really is guilty of indulging House, but it's one of the few times where he can't find the need to blame himself. House is just so special and he loves to pretend he's in control, when all he wants is to be controlled. At least in bed. 

He leans in to kiss him. "I'll get some handcuffs. D'you want me to pretend I'm arresting you, too?" he asks teasingly. 

House pulls a face. "Absolutely not," he says. "Fuck cops."

Wilson laughs. "Yeah, you won't get to fuck one," he says.

House scoffs and leans in to kiss him messily. 

*

"Do you like it?" he asks as he clicks the lock of the handcuffs, keeping House's hands behind his back. 

House makes a little noise. "I think they're nice."

"Good," he says, not stopping himself from leaning closer to him, putting his hand on House's arm. He slides it down to the handcuffs, the chain setting them in place, the lock he has the key to. The noise they make when House wriggles his wrists against them, the rattling… it's better than he imagined. He sucks in a breath and settles a hand on House's shoulder. "Get on your knees now, dear," he says, "I think you'll look quite good handcuffed and sucking me off."

House whimpers and slowly sinks onto his knees, pulling a face but not complaining. Wilson examines his face, for a second, looking for any signs that the pain is any more than what he can deal with. He seldom makes House kneel, always worried about his leg, about his pain— House might not appreciate being treated with care, but he appreciates not having House clutch his leg afterward just because he wanted a blowjob.

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully. 

House scoffs a little. "Yes. Could you pull your pants down? Kinda can't do that."

Wilson obliges, pulling his pants down to his ankles. "I think you can pull my boxers down on your own," he says. 

House makes a little noise and obliges, mouthing up at Wilson's half-hard length before going up and biting at the waistband, pulling it down quick. He wriggles his wrists against the handcuffs once again, the rattling making Wilson's cock twitch. God, he's defenseless for him to take. House  _ wants _ to be defenseless for him to take. The thought makes him warm with both love and arousal. 

"Get to it," he orders gently. 

House does. He leans in and starts licking up at his shaft, his tongue teasing at those veins on the underside before he wraps his lips around his cock. As always, seeing House suck him off is quite a sight— watching all that tension disappear right off his shoulders as he starts bobbing his head up and down his thick shaft, eyes lidded in pleasure, in some sense of worship. 

Wilson lets out a soft moan, putting a hand on the back of House's neck, glancing from time to time down at his back. The way he wrings his wrists against it, the way he shifts to make his position more comfortable. He looks perfect like this, sucking him off while so utterly at his mercy. 

"So good for me," he breathes, pushing his head a little farther down. House only gags the tiniest bit— if there's anything good about his Vicodin addiction, it's the fact his gag reflex has been turned to dust by swallowing so many pills dry over the years. 

House relaxes his throat as he takes Wilson all the way down, nose buried into his crotch, letting out air as he keeps Wilson's cock down his throat, only choking a little as he breathes through his nose. It's all calculated, alright, how he licks up and down his shaft, how he laps up at the tip like he's thirsty for something. It's all calculated to drive Wilson farther and farther to the edge. 

He lets House do all he wants, lets him suck him off, slow and teasing and yet merciless. The way he licks around the cockhead is simply divine, how he makes sure to have him twitch and moan, digging his nails into the back of House's neck as he tries to resist releasing down his throat. 

But House, well— he's also enjoying himself, alright. He's always liked sucking Wilson off, as much as he would never voice it out loud. The way he relaxes when he puts his mouth around his cock is much better than a tirade about how good it feels, a tirade that will only be spoken through glances. 

It's the glance House gives him when he looks up, eyes gleaming with some mix of arrogance and of adoration. His jaw is slack around his cock, bobbing his head up and down as he watches Wilson's blissed out expression. 

Wilson sighs out, hips bucking up into House's mouth mindlessly, House groaning around his shaft, the sweet vibrations making more pre-come dribble off his cock. House looks up at him as he swallows right around his cock. 

That's what drives Wilson off the edge, anyhow— House liking it all, swallowing it all. He releases hard, moaning as he grasps at House's neck, hips stuttering forward as he climaxes, panting as he paints House's throat white. 

He takes it, swallows it all before pulling off and watching his softening length. He smiles. "Did I do good?" he asks, hiding the need for affirmation under a cocky smile and shining eyes. 

"Yes," he nods, leaning down to kiss him, not minding the taste of come on his lips. "You did great, love. Now get on the bed, I've got to return the favor."

"You're gonna suck me off?" he asks, tilting his head as he wrings his wrists once again, Wilson helping him stand up. He grimaces and he can't help but look at him with worry. He shakes his head, musters nonsense, and he knows what it means. And that's that. 

"Oh, no," he says as he pulls him onto the bed, on his belly. "I'm going to rim you. If you're up for it."

As much as he's not watching him, he knows House's mouth is slack, open in surprise. He knows House's ice blue eyes are glinting and warming up. 

"I am," he says softly. 

"Good," he nods, pulling down his pants and his boxers, noticing how he's already half-hard just at sucking him off. He smiles a little and bites back the need to tease House about it. "You like your handcuffs?"

House stays silent for several seconds. "Yes."

"Good," he says once again. "You adore being at my mercy, don't you?"

"I just like the sound when I move my wrists," he argues weakly. 

Wilson flashes him a small smile. "You don't have to lie to me, dear," he says as he gets on his knees, settling in between House's legs. He leans a hand up to circle one of the handcuffs, squeezing the cold metal before pulling away, pressing his hands against House’s ass, pushing those cheeks apart before starting to tongue at his puckered hole.

House writhes underneath him, moaning as he wrings his wrists, the chains rattling as he eats his ass. He licks into it eagerly, eyes fluttering shut as he leans a hand down to jerk him off, quick movements that make pre-come spurt out right into his hand. He kisses at his hole, licking into it as far as he can reach as he strokes House’s thick length, moaning into his butt as he rims him.

The best part about rimming House has always been his reactions. The way he writhes and wriggles underneath him, moaning brokenly as he clings onto the bedsheets desperately. But this time, he can’t do that, the handcuffs keeping him pliant and desperate, his only form of relief being the constant rattling, the way he struggles against them hopelessly, whimpering as he gets eaten out.

“Wilson,” House moans out as his hips stutter down against the bedsheets weakly, panting and moaning as he eats his ass. “Wilson, oh god, Wilson!”

“Yes?” he asks with a small smile, pulling away briefly, a thin line of spit covering his ass. “What do you want, love?”

“Wilson,” he whines out. “Don’t call me love when you just had your mouth in my ass.”

“I can and I will, love,” he says before leaning back down.

House moans, more pre-come dribbling out of his cock. “Oh, please, god, please, jerk me off, Wilson, Wilson…”

He can’t help but think it’s oh so very cute when House is begging, writhing underneath him, moaning desperately. Perhaps it’s about the vulnerability, the way House lets him in how he wouldn’t let anybody else in. The way he moans his name, like a plea for which no more words exist.

He still wraps his hand around his cock, giving him quick strokes, kissing the small of his back. “Come for me, love.”

“Wilson, Wilson, Wil-Wilson—”

House comes, hard, releasing all over his hand, panting as he wrings his wrists, the rattle and his pants the only thing that can be heard for several seconds, until he relaxes, goes boneless on the bed.

“You did so well for me, dear,” he says, leaning up to squeeze his hand. “Would you like me to take the handcuffs off?”

“Yeah,” House nods, voice only having pliant submissiveness in it.

He reaches for the key of the handcuffs and unlocks them, pulling them off House’s wrists. Afterward, he leans in to kiss the inside of each of his wrists, smiling a little as he helps him turn around. There’s House, in all his handsome glory— stubble, gray hairs, small blue eyes staring up at him in that lovey-dovey glance he saves for when he’s tired or post-orgasm. 

Wilson helps him get out of his clothes, doing the same himself, before cuddling up to him. As much as House has two inches on him, it’s always been a silent agreement that he’s the big spoon most of the time. He wraps his arms around House’s midriff and hums happily.

“Did you like that?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his head around to peck his cheek. “I’d love to do somethin’ with that again.”

“Good,” he nods, kissing his shoulder. “You should sleep.”

“I’m getting to it, just stop talking and maybe I will.”

Wilson laughs. “Good night, House.”

House is smiling, as much as he’d deny it. As much as he’d deny how his eyes are brimming with love. 

“Good night, Wilson.”


End file.
